


Barter A Heart To Summon A Home

by Katyakora



Series: Coldwestallen Week [8]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, ColdWestAllen Week, Multi, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-28 08:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10827525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katyakora/pseuds/Katyakora
Summary: With the political vultures circling, Queen Iris finds herself desperate enough to bargain with an otherworldly spirit.





	Barter A Heart To Summon A Home

**Author's Note:**

> ColdWestAllen Week Spring 2017 Day 1: Lust
> 
> (The character voices may be little off, they were harder to get a feel for while maintaining a more formal and archaic speech pattern)

It was with great trepidation that Queen Iris stepped into the silent grove, the full moon’s light casting the ancient stones with a beautiful mural of pale frost and smoking shadows. Her grandmother's words of warning echoed in her head, that nothing was worth the risk of bartering with those spirits born of magic, but they were out of options. Five years of marriage and she and King Bartholomew had yet to produce an heir, despite their enthusiastic efforts. Her husband was the last of his line, and despite a long and prosperous dynasty, the longer the line of succession remained muddy, the weaker his control became. The rumours of several high ranking noblemen planning a coup to secure power for themselves were too prolific to ignore. They did what they could politically, but it was plain that Barry needed a legitimate heir to put an end to such ideas before they gained too much momentum. So Iris had dusted off her mother's old books in search of any trick or remedy the wisdom of her ancestresses might provide. She had tried them all, to no avail. This would be her last chance. With a fortifying breath and thoughts of her beloved husband, Iris stepped into the circle of stones.

 

It was cold, cold enough that the air bit her lungs with each breath and she pulled her heavy cloak tighter. In the circle, the moonlight appeared to dance and shimmer as it bent around the stones. The frost seemed to grow and spread before her very eyes, delicate and beautiful fractals that formed otherworldly patterns, silent harbingers of what awaited her in the still grove.

 

“‘Tis a brave mortal indeed who wanders alone through this wood at night,” a smooth voice spoke from beyond the shadows. A tall, pale figure stepped into the moonlight, the midnight fog gathered around him like a cloak. “Are you lost, little queen?”

 

Iris found herself pinned under an unnaturally blue gaze, a little stunned by features too sharp and symmetrical to be human. He was unnervingly beautiful, as his kind were said to be, and he prowled around the circle of stones with a panther's grace, his eyes assessing her curiously.

 

“I seek to barter,” Iris managed to say, proud that her voice and her conviction did not waver.

 

“And what is it you think you have that I might find valuable?” he drawled, a sardonic smirk twisting his lips.

 

“I know you can give me what I need,” she responded primly, knowing better than to reveal her hand too soon. “We will find out if I can afford it when you name your price.” She did not shy away from his gaze, meeting his curiosity with only steely determination.

 

“Clever little queen,” he murmured with a delighted smile. “Perhaps we can do business after all.” He stepped closer and it became very apparent to Iris how his slender frame towered over hers. “So tell me; what possible woe drove you from your hearth into my arms this night?”

 

Iris felt a shiver shake her spine, but whether it was from the night’s chill or the suggestive undertone to his words, she could not say.

 

“I wish to bear my husband an heir.”

 

Be specific, the book had said, do not give them a chance to twist your words out of ignorance or amusement.

 

“Oh, I see.” His smirk turned lascivious, his appreciative eyes raking her up and down. “Your husband must be a fool indeed, to neglect _your_ bedchamber. Or do his tastes simply reside elsewhere?”

 

“Not at all!” she snapped, irritated by his insinuations and flustered by his flattery. “We love each other dearly and have wished and tried for a child since our marriage. Fate has denied us, and without an heir my husband’s power weakens. Time is no longer on our side and this is why I turn to you. So tell me your price or I shall be on my way.”

 

He responded to her demand with a thoughtful tilt of his head, that delighted smirk shrinking but never leaving. “And if I told you the standard price for that kind of magic would be your first born?”

 

Her brow pinched ever so slightly in confusion. “That would defeat the purpose of my request,” she pointed out. He arched one sharp brow at her, as though she was missing something obvious. She thought for a moment and her gut clenched when she realised what he was implying. “Unless my first born was not of my husband’s blood.”

 

He grinned proudly at her. “Precisely. You’re not the only one who finds their self in need of an heir.”

 

“And you would have me bear yours?” she demanded incredulously.

 

“Only if you are willing,” he stated firmly. “I’m no brute. But the spell required for your request demands my presence for the conception either way. Why not make things...enjoyable for all involved?”

 

Iris swallowed thickly at the image his words invoked. Enjoyable indeed, although she could not know if her husband would agree.

 

“I am...willing enough,” she admitted slowly, noticing the way his eyes tracked the movement as she wet her lips. “Provided my husband is also.”

 

“That is something you will have to ask him yourself. Have we a deal, then? A child for a child, should your husband consent?”

 

She nodded, her stomach a riot of somersaults. “We do.”

 

The grin he gave her was positively wolfish.

 

“Go home to your husband, little queen. Tomorrow, when the full moon rises, should he prove amenable, have your husband shed a drop of blood on your windowsill.” He reached out a long, delicate finger to gently brush back a lock of hair the wind had pushed into her eyes. Iris did not move, utterly mesmerised by his movements and his gaze. He ended the gesture by running his fingertip down the side of her face and along her jaw, his touch somehow chasing away the unnatural chill surrounding them. “Until then, little queen.”

 

Iris blinked and he was gone. In the distance, a wolf howled, and an icy wind swept through the grove as though summoned by the sound. Iris let out a shaky breath as she pulled up her furred hood, the ghost of a caress the only proof she had of her encounter. She turned and strode from the grove, feeling as though unseen eyes followed her every step, all the way to her horse, all the way back to the castle she called home. She had no doubt she had just irrevocably changed her fate and that of her husband, but time alone would tell if it was a change she would regret.

* * *

“Are you sure, Iris?” King Bartholomew asked, dagger in hand. “Once my blood is shed, the contract will be sealed. There will be no going back.”

 

Iris felt her gut churn as she nodded fiercely. “I’m sure. I’ve already made my choice, Barry. Now, it’s up to you.”

 

Barry cupped her face with his free hand and kissed her; his hope, his fear, his gratitude and his love pressed between them. Iris returned the emotion warmly, squeezing his hand in encouragement when he pulled away. With a look of grim determination, Barry strode to the window and opened it, allowing winter’s bitter chill to breach their chamber, chasing Iris closer to the fireplace. With a prick and a hiss, a single crimson droplet marred the pristine white snow glowing under the full moon’s light on the sill.

 

A sudden gust rushed through the window, snuffing the myriad candles and lamps until the only light came from the fireplace and the moon. Outside on the balcony, a soft thud was heard. The king and queen shared a look, their breath quickening as the previously locked balcony doors creaked open. The full moon perfectly silhouetted the beautiful, ethereal man Iris had met the night before, who was leaning casually against the door frame with a delighted smirk.

 

“And to think my sister was so convinced the good king would not be swayed,” he drawled, his enchanting blue eyes taking the young king’s measure. “I thank you, sir; you’ve won me quite the wager.”

 

“You have a sister?” Iris found herself asking in surprise. It had not occurred to her that such a thing might be possible.

 

“I did not spring from the snow fully formed, little queen,” he informed her, clearly amused by her assumption. “My people are made the same as yours are, with all the same ties that bind. I would have thought our past conversation suggested as much.”

 

“Yes, of course. It was a foolish thought,” she chided herself. Her husband chose that moment to find his voice.

 

“You are…?” Barry spoke, managing to forget several years worth of etiquette lessons in the face of this beautiful stranger, who smirked at the dumbstruck monarch.

 

“A guest in your home,” he replied smoothly. The king blinked, remembering himself.

 

“And you are most welcome, sir. Pardon me, but my wife never told me your name?”

 

“Because I did not give it.” The stranger quirked a brow at him. “Names have power, good king. Remember that.”

 

“But what shall we call you?” Barry insisted and proceeded to blush. “It seems strange, is all, to share another’s bed and not have a name to speak of.”

 

Iris frowned, concerned that her husband might offend this powerful creature. Instead, his smirk grew wider, as though Barry had pleased him. He pushed off the door frame, sauntering closer until he and Barry stood almost nose to nose, surprising Iris to see that they were of a height. Barry’s eyes widened at his approach, but he did not back down or flinch.

 

“You may call me Len, good king,” he purred, his eyes raking Barry up and down. “I’m sure I can give you much cause to use it this night.”

 

Barry visibly shivered at the salacious words and Iris herself felt a rush of heat at the thought of what the stranger, Len, was suggesting. She bit her lip, drinking in the sight the pair made, contemplating all the possibilities the night could hold. Long, dexterous fingers wrapped Barry's wrist to lead him over to join Iris by the fire.

 

“Shall we begin?”

* * *

The final night of the full moon found Iris lounging in their chambers, watching her husband and trying not to smirk. Barry was her husband and her king, and she loved and respected him greatly, but when it came to matters of emotion he was almost laughably transparent. He paced in front of the fireplace, babbling a list of nervous concerns that did nothing to obscure what was really on his mind.

 

“If you are so worried it did not take,” she began, rising to her feet to glide over and arrest his pacing with a gentle hand, “why not simply summon him again?”

 

“We could?” he asked, failing to hide the hungry hope in his eyes.

 

“It is still the full moon, after all,” she pointed out, gesturing out the window to where the moon hung bright and heavy in the sky. “What could it hurt to try?”

 

“You don’t believe he might be...upset? To be summoned a second time?”

 

Iris did smirk now, stepping in close so that they stood pressed together.

 

“I doubt he would protest a second evening’s...indulgence,” she whispered, biting her lip sinfully as she watched her husband’s pupils widen. She’d seen the change in him the evening before, how every touch from their guest had been an awakening, stoking a fire in the young king that still smoldered within him. In truth, it had been an awakening for the both of them, Len skillfully bringing out new tastes and desires they had never even contemplated. “If only to assuage your fears, of course.”

 

“Of course,” Barry parroted, guilt creeping in to smother the desire in his eyes. “Iris, I didn’t mean...you know that I love you-”

 

“Hush, love,” Iris interrupted him gently, slipping her arms around him in a reassuring embrace. “We _both_ enjoyed his company. As long as we _both_ do, what harm is there in inviting him to return?”

 

“But is that not dangerous?” Barry asked as he wrapped his arms around her. “He is not human.”

 

“He felt human enough,” Iris reminded him coyly, enjoying the way her words sent a heated blush across her husband’s cheeks. “Besides, our deal spoke of summoning him on the full moon but did not specify how often. If he has no desire to rejoin us, he will simply ignore our call.”

 

“I suppose…” Barry murmured, clearly hesitant to believe what was on offer. “Do you...want to?”

 

“I…” she began in a slow whisper, rising up onto her toes so that their mouths were only an inch apart, “want to see that look on your face again. The one you wore when he asked if he could taste you.” Iris pressed closer, putting them chest to chest so she felt the shiver her words sent through him. “I want to hear the way you moaned when he touched you.” She watched him swallow thickly, could feel his growing interest against her navel. “I want to lay between you both as you take me apart.” She smirked wickedly as Barry actually whimpered. “And I want to watch as you lose yourselves in each other. Is that what you want?”

 

Barry nodded, his pink lips parted as he stared at her in lust-filled wonder.

 

“Then we are together in this, husband, as we should be in all things.”

 

Barry kissed her soundly, making her toes curl with the heat of it, before moving to the window and drawing his belt knife. They both watched as he let a single drop of blood fall to the windowsill, the crimson shining bright under the moonlight. Off in the distance, a wolf howled.

 

“Do you think he will come?” Barry asked softly.

 

“I believe so,” Iris assured him firmly, “but if not, it shall be entirely his loss.”

 

A tense few moments passed as they waited. Iris was on the cusp of accepting disappointment when a gust of wind from nowhere snuffed out the lights, leaving them in the flickering firelight once more. They turned expectantly towards the balcony. It swung open slowly, as though the person on the other side were less sure of their welcome. Indeed, when he came into view, Len had a somewhat puzzled yet intrigued look on his face as he regarded them.

 

“One visit is usually customary,” he stated as he stepped over the threshold, a perplexed lilt to his words. His piercing blue eyes looked back and forth between them, assessing. Iris smiled warmly, hoping to make him feel comfortable.

 

“My husband has some concerns,” she informed him, gesturing towards the chair by the fire in invitation. She herself took a seat on the couch opposite. Barry remained standing by the fireplace, fidgeting with the hem of his nightshirt.

 

“It is a little late to be having reservations, don’t you think?” Len drawled. He took the offered seat, lounging sinfully in such a way that the entire length of his body seemed to be on display.

 

“My concerns are not regarding our actions,” Barry assured him hastily. “It is simply that, after failing for so long, it is difficult to accept that a single attempt would be...sufficient.”

 

Len’s gaze went from studying Barry to Iris, who gave him a knowing smirk. His eyes lit up with understanding, his own smirk growing as he tilted his head to look back at Barry.

 

“Is that so?” he asked in that mesmerising drawl of his. Barry visibly swallowed, biting his lip as he nodded. “Well.” He rose sinuously to his feet, stepping into Barry’s space. “It is true that magic can be a fickle thing.” He raised a slender hand to cradle Barry’s jaw, his thumb resting just below the young king’s parted lips. “And with such lovely and eager partners, there is a slight possibility I could have...slipped, and missed something in all the excitement.” He let his thumb brush teasingly against Barry’s lower lip. Barry shivered, his pupils blown wide as he watched Len speak. “ I would happily repeat the process, if it will assuage your fears?” Barry nodded, enthusiastic and a little dazed. Iris bit her own lip, feeling heat and want fill her to her bones just watching the pair of them.

 

“Perhaps it would help to aid each other in taking the edge off of your...excitement, first?” she asked innocently.

 

“An excellent suggestion,” Len purred, turning his head to run his heated gaze over her, taking in her fervid eyes and the way her hands were clenched in the fabric of her nightdress. “Be sure to watch very closely, so you may judge when we are prepared enough for you to join us.”

 

“Of course,” she agreed, her tone fervid with suggestion, “I won’t look away for even a moment.”

 

With one last lingering look at the way her clenched hands slowly raised the hem of her nightdress, Len turned back to Barry and kissed him without preamble. 

* * *

 

The first night of the next full moon saw a single drop of blood marr a pristine windowsill. They summoned him to share the good news, they said. Iris had not bled in the last month, their efforts had been a success. It took little more than a few suggestive words and heated looks to entice him into their bed once more. The next night, another drop of blood joined the stain on the windowsill. This time they had no excuse beyond the desire for his company, but he did not seem to mind in the slightest. On the final night of the full moon, Barry had his belt knife held to his finger to reopen the wound when a strong hand gripped his wrist. Len coaxed him to drop the knife and drew the surprised monarch into a chaste kiss before leading him towards where his wife waited on their bed.

 

“There is no need to shed your blood, good king. As long as the pair of you desire me, I shall come.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually an old idea I tweaked to fit the prompt. I'm sorry I flaked out on the smut.


End file.
